“Amanda,” I scold, hoping the stranger didn’t hear her. From the mirth in his eyes, I’m guessing he did. “Um, are you sure?”
“Yeah, not a problem. I’ll grab a table so we can properly make the trade. I don’t want any of this in-the-air stuff because if you drop my slice on the floor I’m going to be pissed.” With a quick wink, he turns toward the cash register to pay for his pizza.
“Oh my God, he is fucking gorgeous.” Amanda is now holding my hand, pulling on it. “You owe me big time now for putting on ChapStick. Don’t you just want to lick his face? I want to lick his face, is that weird?”
“Extremely.” I yank my hand away. “Stop being obnoxious and act like an adult.”
Amanda stares me up and down. “This coming from the girl who was about to throw a hissy fit over Buffalo chicken pizza.”
“It was all I wanted . . .” I take a deep breath and turn away from Amanda; I’m not dealing with her right now. The worker behind the counter looks like she’s about to lose her patience. So does the grumbling crowd behind me so I quickly make my picks. “Three veggies please, all crust.”
It doesn’t take long before we’re paid for and carrying our drinks and plates over to the gorgeous man in the corner at a four-person table. When we get closer, he pushes out both of the chairs across from him. He nods at them and says, “Take a seat.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Am I going to have to woo you before I get my slice?”
He smiles over the pizza that he’s about to bite into. “Yeah, I do believe you’re going to have to.”
With zero self-respect, Amanda takes a seat and says, “That’s no problem with me.”
Honestly. Does she not know how to avoid showing all her cards at once?
When I take a seat, he holds out his hand. “I’m Aaron.”
I take his hand and notice how rough it is. It’s a working hand, one that experiences strenuous hours on the jobsite, day in, day out. “Amelia, and this is my friend, Amanda.”
Aaron nods at Amanda. “Nice to meet you.”
“Pleasure is mine and just so you know, Amelia is single and definitely on the market. Want me to give you her number?”
“Amanda, what the hell are you—?”
“I would love it,” Aaron says, leaning back in his chair while sipping his drink.
Slowly turning toward him, a little stunned, I ask, “You would?”
He nods with all the confidence in the world. “I would.”
“But you don’t know me. I could be a shovel-wielding rabbit killer.”
He leans forward, his chest flexing under his shirt with the movement. “I’ll take my chances.”
Now feeling a little skeptical, I fold my arms over my chest and ask, “Why do you want it?”
He bites down on his straw and studies me for a second before saying, “Can’t let a girl walk out the door without getting her number who’s that passionate about Buffalo chicken pizza. It’s just not physically possible.”
“Aw, he likes you for your crazy; he’s a keeper,” Amanda chimes in with her mouth full of pizza. “It’s 607—”
“Amanda, just be quiet for a second.” Looking at Aaron, I say, “Three Buffalo chicken pizza slices in exchange for three veggie and my phone number.”
“No way.” He shakes his head. “You can’t take all my Buffalo.”
“But I thought you wanted my number.”
“I do.” He leans forward some more, his fresh scent hitting me hard in the chest. “But we both know if I give you three slices, you will have zero respect for me because no man in his right mind would give up three Buffalo slices. No matter how hot the chick is.” Eeep, he thinks I’m hot. “But I will counter you with one and a half slices and a number.”
I sit back now, watching how his smile starts to spread. God, he’s just so . . . yum. He looks like he’s quite a few years older than me. Not just because of his face, but there is something in his eyes that makes him seem older. He’s definitely not in his second year of college like me. Not wanting to fold so quickly, I counter. “Two slices, my number, and a guaranteed date this Friday.”
He sits back, his eyes widen, and that smile gets even bigger. “Fucking deal.” He holds his hand out and we shake.
For some reason, I feel like I might have just bartered for a little more than I can handle, because a mere smile from this man has me weak in the knees. What effect will time alone with him have on me?
I’m guessing so much more than I can imagine. I’m also guessing something so amazing I’ll never forget.
Chapter Four
AARON
Present day . . .
Right on time, I’m impressed.
She doesn’t get out of her car right away, so I give her a second but then realize maybe she’s not exiting the vehicle because I have the key to the house and she has nowhere to go.
Wanting to make a good impression and seem approachable since I’m the property manager, I run my hand through my hair and adjust my jeans. I’m not wearing any fancy shit, but at least I don’t have holes in or paint stains on my clothes. I hop off my front porch and make my way toward her car, slowly, not wanting to scare her.
There is muffling coming from her car, voices I can’t quite hear, but I get the idea she’s finishing up a conversation, so I slow my pace drastically. That’s when I see her tilt her head down and look at me. From the reflection of the light off her windows, I can’t make out her features. I can only see a silhouette.
I lift a friendly hand in her direction to let her know I come in peace and make my way to her driveway. There is no wave back, but I do hear the telltale sound of her opening her car door. She steps out and when I round the vehicle, I catch the sun off her driver’s side window, temporarily blinding me.
Blinking my eyes a few times to calm my retinas, I bring her into focus.
“Aaron . . .”
Every hair on my body sticks straight up and my body goes still from that voice, that unmistakably sultry voice.
When she finally comes into view, I am met with a pair of hazel eyes I haven’t been able to get out of my head since the day she left town for bigger and better things.
“Amelia.” I clear my throat and take a step forward. “Wow, I uh . . .” Tongue-tied, that’s exactly what I am right now. “Didn’t expect to see you get out of that car.” I laugh nervously while I pull on the back of my neck, trying to comprehend what’s going on. I point with my thumb toward the house and ask, “You’re the new tenant?”
She nods and looks me over, taking her time with her perusal, her eyes burning a hole right through my clothes like they used to. When her eyes meet mine again, she asks, “You’re the property manager?”
I nod and swallow hard. “And neighbor.”
She presses her lips together, thinning them out. “What are the chances?” She laughs nervously.